


Tango

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [27]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, So much smut, just answering the call for sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She wonders, as he closes the door behind him, pulls her close, spins, hoists her against the door, pins her hands above her head and begins to lavish kisses against her throat; at one point during all that she wonders what he’s done about Rusty. The boy can’t walk in and see them like this; he’ll have a heart attack."<br/>Chapter can stand totally alone; there are no plot bunnies here whatsoever. All you need to know is they are an established couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody called for smut?  
> So, although this chapter fits well within this AU, and is therefore posted as such, it is literally only shameless smut and nothing more. It is here to answer the call of a post on tumblr that was rather despondent at the lack of Sharon/Andy action in fanfic. This is the definition of PWP. Some schmexy times, just to make you all smile.

**_Tango_ **

 

She wonders, as he closes the door behind him, pulls her close, spins, hoists her against the door, pins her hands above her head and begins to lavish kisses against her throat; at one point during all that she wonders what he’s done about Rusty. The boy can’t walk in and see them like this; he’ll have a heart attack. She tells him so, on a breathy moan just as his tongue licks the divot at the base of her throat.

“Taken care of” he whispers, shifting to pin her hands with only one of his own so the other can explore. She feels him trace her throat with just his fingertips, the touch feather-light and far more effective for being so. She shivers, his lips lightly caressing the point of her collarbone. His hand lightly moves down her neck and down her chest; his touch gets lighter and lighter until it’s just a whisper against her skin. It reaches the edge of her top- a low scoop neck that rests just above the hint of cleavage and looked rather lovely under her jacket today- and his fingertip trace it in tiny circles, his palm almost touching her breast, but not quite. He leaves it up to her deep breaths to push her nipples just far enough to ghost across his palm. She almost moans, but it gets caught in her throat when he simultaneously sucks on her jaw, not quite hard enough to leave a mark.

And then suddenly he’s gone.

She slumps forward, and just barely catches herself from falling over completely. She drops her arms and steadies herself against the door. She comes back to her senses just in time to see him disappear around the corner and into her kitchen. He’s positively swaggering.

“What the fuck” she breaths, blinking rapidly, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat and her shaky breath. It has been a very, _very_ long time since someone kissed her like that- even him; even during their hottest foreplay. It’s been over a lifetime since she was comfortable enough with someone to allow them to be so forceful- to take the lead so decisively that she is literally pinned, no matter how easy it would have been to push him away. She can’t remember being so worked up so quickly; so ready to go without an ounce of warning- the last time must surely have been when she was a teenager getting drunk on cheap tequila at her cousin’s house party. The fact that they ostensibly have the place to themselves and can be as outrageous as they like probably helps; the fact that she’s been thinking about riding him all day probably doesn’t hurt either. (She can’t help it- a week since they’ve had sex and then evidence tapes full of soft core porn have left her with a filthy mind, and she’s only human).

She glares after him, a few moments too late to be in any way effective, and then follows him into the kitchen. She rounds the corner to see his arse hanging out of the fridge like he owns the joint, and her hips sway as she comes up behind him quite suddenly, lays herself along the length of his back, wraps her arms around and down along his front, and places her hands on the tops of his thighs, her fingertips kneading him just enough to elicit a hitch in his breath. If she could see him she’d know that his eyes also slip closed at the sudden sensual contact.

“That wasn’t playing very fair back there” she husks into his ear, flexing her toes just enough to lengthen along his back a little more. “I may have to pay you back for that” Her tongue darts out, and very slowly she licks at his earlobe, the tip of her tongue flicking back and forth… “later”

And then, like he did to her, she steps away.

She doesn’t leave him though, wanting to watch how he pulls himself together; wanting to see if she has the same effect on him that he does on her. She grins- a wicked look on her face- as he lets out a breath and then looks at her over his shoulder. There is nothing in his hand, and she knows that he was leaving it up to her as to whether they have some dinner first. Frankly roast veggies is not what she wants to be eating.

When he sees the look on her face he straightens and turns to face her. She has her tongue caught between her teeth and is backing slowly to lean against the bench. Her feet are bare and make no sound as she pads across the floor.

He spins and looks at her fiercely, absently closing the fridge door behind him. His look is nothing short of predatory. She can feel the intensity of his from where she’s standing; she’s still keyed up from his initial attack against her front door.

“How about paying me back now?” he asks, taking one deliberate step forward. She can practically feel her eyes darken with desire; she knows she’s hiding nothing from him.

“I thought you were hungry” she says with an affected voice, innocently looking at the fridge as he takes another step towards her.

“Oh, I am” he rasps. He takes a final step that brings his body up to hers, aligned from thigh to stomach as she leans back a little over the edge of the benchtop. Her hands are planted either side of her lower back, and his come to rest against the bench between hers and her hips. She is effectively in his arms. She is still grinning at him, though it morphs into a smirk as he inches closer, so slowly, his breath deliberately brushing across her lips.

“And just what are you hungry for?” she whispers.

He smirks at her, his hips pushing into her just a fraction more. “Guess” he whispers back. Her eyes slip closed and her breath hitches as she feels his lips get impossibly closer to hers without touching. She can feel him getting hard against her lower stomach. It’s the headiest aphrodisiac she’s ever known. He still won’t kiss her.

His hands move to her hips, holding her, his thumbs caressing the edge of her skirt. She still doesn’t move, and he seems to understand the game she’s playing, because he stays barely an inch from her lips, teasing her. A small whimper sounds in the back of her throat; she didn’t mean to let it out, but she can’t help it all the same. She can feel the smug bastard smiling, but she doesn’t really think he has the upper hand, because she can still feel him hardening against her, begging in his own way for her to reciprocate.

“You’re going to have to be specific, Lieutenant” she says, her voice so low it rumbles in her chest. “What are you hungry for?”

He growls- actually growls, which does things to her ego that she never knew could happen- and then moves his cheek to rest against hers, his mouth against her ear. His body is now flush against hers, leaning over her, and god does it send her pulse racing.

“How much do you like these pantyhose?” he whispers, sounds a little bit ridiculous for asking about her underwear in such a straightforward manner, but her answer is really going to dictate just what he does next.

“You are not ruining any of my clothes tonight” she says, teasing but firm. As much as she’d love to be bent over backwards in her kitchen, they’re not twenty, and she can’t guarantee him a lasting night of fun. And besides, if he has truly organised for them to have the place to themselves, she is all for the long and slow, naked and writhing on an open bed, door wide open. “Guess again” she adds.

His hand moves from her hip and slowly traces around her front, then down one thigh, mirroring her earlier teasing. Her breath hitches despite herself, and she feels him grin again. His hand stops on her skirt, caressing the fabric as though he’s fighting the urge to just lift it up.

“Then I suggest” he says, kissing her jaw. “That we move this... to a more suitable location”

She hums in response, and feels him moving to step away, losing the pressure of his body against hers.

“Hey” she calls. One hand snakes behind his neck and holds him still, and he looks a bit surprised for a moment, suddenly less sultry and just plain cute. “You haven’t said hello to me properly since you walked in the door”

He smiles at her- a warm expression that contrasts beautifully with their previous game, and reveals the depth of feeling underneath. “I do apologise” he teases, allowing her to pull him back to her. His hands come up to cup her jaw and turn her head up to look at him, as her other arm comes around his back. She smiles as they stand there, really in each other’s arms this time.

“Hi” he whispers.

“Hi”

Her fingers flex against the back of his neck and pull him close, and he willingly leans in and presses his lips to hers, firm and yet so gentle. He is a fabulous kisser. They stand there for a long while just holding each other and effectively making out in her kitchen. Though still a great turn-on, there is less of the intensity of earlier- it’s familiar, and sweet and completely safe. She thinks it’s amusing that she wouldn’t mind some of that old stuff back. It’s some time before they part, and when they do she is keyed up again, breath ragged, and she’s suddenly reminded just how horny she’s been all day. It a different feeling to being young and reckless and willing to pick up just about anyone in a bar; it’s far more visceral, and entirely focussed on him, and she knows by the way he’s behaving tonight that he is no different.

“I think it’s time to move to that suitable location” she rasps, opening her eyes. His eyes are black in front of her, and so close she can see every shift of colour.

“Ey ey, Captain” he drawls. She chortles at him, and rolls her eyes, giving him a look of disbelief. “No?” he asks, grinning.

“If only you knew how many times I’ve heard that one” she says with a smirk.

“But never from me” he says, wrapping is arms around her and pulling her in the direction of her room. She tries to be careful of his steps with her bare feet as she wraps her arms around him and trusts him to lead her in the right direction. If they were younger or more foolish, and perhaps not dressed in matching work suits, he would probably pick her up and stalk to the room. Still, there is something unbelievably fun about stumbling down the hallway while planting her lips on his and causing him to knock his back into her bedroom door frame. She giggles at him, loud and airy in the empty house, and is silenced by his lips again.

He kicks his shoes off as they walk backwards towards the bed, and it’s almost thrilling not to have to close the door behind them. She smiles when he all but throws her on top of the duvet, shucking out of his jacket as she’s still bouncing at the motion. She laughs at him. “Such a caveman”. She pulls the bed open anyway, while she still has the clarity of mind to do so; sheets are easier to wash.

She reaches for the hem of her teeshirt and pulls it swiftly over her head. She goes to reach for her bra clasp and gives him a look when he stops her, his eyes again intense and paralysing.

“Uh-uh” he mutters, shaking his head. “I want to unwrap you myself”

“Oh, I have seen your wrapping skills. I told you, I don’t want any of my clothes ri-” She shrieks with a giggle as he pounces on top of her and smothers her with a kiss, silencing the end of her sentence. They stay like that for a while, slowly moving further onto the bed so her back isn’t at a funny angle over the edge. She moans around his tongue, enjoying the weight of him on top of her, though she’d honestly much prefer they be naked.     

“I promise I’ll be careful” he whispers, breaking away and running a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. He pecks her lips once more for good measure.

“Okay” she drawls. “But then I need to have my fair share of unwrapping too”

“It’s a deal”

“I like deals”

“I know you do”

“You know what else I like?”

“What’s that?”

She grins at him again, her tongue between her teeth in a way that looks absolutely naughty. Her fingers start slowly working the buttons of his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. Her nails ghost over his chest as they work down and down, and he growls again, which makes her giggle.

“Oh no” he says, shaking his head. “I told you. I get to unwrap first”

And suddenly she’s once again left bereft, breathing heavily in the middle of the bed, sans her shirt, him standing at her feet. For a moment she thinks he’s going to leave her hanging again, but she knows that he’s too far gone for that now. Playtime, as they say, is over.

He kneels down and pulls her so her knees just fall over the edge of the bed. It’s arousing in a way that she rarely thinks about, to see him like that; to have that kind of power-play involved in sex, no matter how subtle. She doesn’t know what it says about her that she moans when she feels his hands slide up her calves and around her knees; that she can feel herself get wet when they go up further, gently touching her thin pantyhose so as not to cause a run.

His hands snake across her skin, over her hips, and then she feels the light scratch of his nails as he hooks his fingers in the edge of her hose and pulls them down slowly; so slowly she has to clamp down on a whimper in the back of her throat. He grins at her, completely unapologetic, but doesn’t speed up the movement of his hands as they retrace their path back down her legs, lightly gathering the hose as they go. She thinks he really is trying to be careful, and she knows she’ll thank him in the morning when she’s not so damn worked up.

“Wouldn’t want these to get a ladder in them, would we?” he whispers, easing them over the ends of her toes and tossing them carefully onto the chair in the corner of her room.

“You’d be in trouble” she says, nodding in agreement.

“Can’t have that”

He looks wicked. And he isn’t standing up again. His hands trace over the tops of her thighs and across her skirt, avoiding any real pressure as they find the side zip and slowly ease it down. The sound of the zip teeth is loud in the quiet room that is filled with their heavy breathing and not much else. She watches as he pulls her skirt over her hips and down her legs, lightly biting her lower lip in anticipation. She notices that he very deliberately flings that onto the seat as well; he’s at least being mindful of things that will annoy her tomorrow, and she finds that inexplicably sexy. God does she need more of this.

He stops still and drinks in the sight of her, from head to toe and back again, and she lets him because they so rarely get the chance to savour and he makes her feel so unbelievably desirable with the way he looks at her like that. She’s glad she paid enough attention this morning to match her underwear- sometimes she just doesn’t bother, and that habit does no justice to the lovely wine colour of this particular set. It’s not light enough to be considered red, really, but judging by the look on his face, that doesn’t matter one wit.

He places a knee on the bed next to her hip, and one hand next to her opposite shoulder, and leans over the top of her, snaking his free hand under her back. She steals a kiss and he’s happy to oblige, and she is aware of both his soft lips and his dextrous fingers, which find the clasp of her bra and undo it in a single snap. She threads her arms out of the straps as he pulls back and slides the garment off her. He tosses it across the room, and she doesn’t care about the bra because it’s due for a wash anyway, and god is she worked up by now.

He pulls himself slowly back, kissing an uneven trail down her chest, stopping to kiss each nipple just enough to leave it wet, and the cool of the room works them to a peak. He moves back to his knees on the floor and hooks fingers into the elastic of her pants right at her hips. She helps him by lifting just enough for him to slide those off her too, throwing them in the same vague direction as her pants.

He stops and stares at her.

In the early days she felt a little bit self-conscious of her body around him. Not for any rational reason; for a woman of her age she’s in fantastic shape, she knows. But precisely because of her age, when compared to his usual type. She wondered, the second time they made love, if he had a chance to compare and contrast. He must have noticed, or at least suspected, because he’d made sure to take it slow and steady- almost all night, really- and told her over and over how beautiful she was. He would caress places she’d never think were sexy, and realised some time later that he was noticing everything; noticing and bathing in it. She was much the same really, when it came to him.

But looking at his face now, and seeing the way he is staring at her naked form, a flush of heat spreads through her because he so obviously loves what he sees, and having that kind of influence over someone is a heady power trip she’s learning to enjoy.

“Do you even realise how gorgeous you are?” he says lowly, seriously.

She can only really hum in response to that, an indecisive little sound.

He leans over her again and spends a good few minutes running his hands all over her- admiring her in a way that is not supposed to be purely about sex, but gets her wet all the same.

“Andy, please” she whispers, insistent and a little bit desperate. “You’re wearing too much”

He chuckles at her, and swiftly kneels again. She is not totally prepared for the feeling of his lips against her inner thigh, or the way they quickly travel up further, then further again. He works both legs equally before he kisses her lips just lightly, and she can tell she’s extremely wet, and would like to take a moment to congratulate herself a little at that, because at her age getting wet at thoughts and a few light touches alone is testament to his effect on her.

He licks her, and kisses her over and over, and she can feel herself get warmer, her lips opening and engorging, and he just won’t stop. They’ve done this a couple of time for foreplay, and he always uses his fingers because she thinks he actually really enjoys doing that, but because they’re always pressed for time, or tired, or have to be quiet, they’ve never stayed like this for long; him with his head buried between her legs. But this time she can tell that he won’t relent, and he won’t slow down, and she hopes she has enough in her to go again once he’s done because she wants to come with him inside her, but if he stops she thinks she’ll scream. Still, she knows she’s multi-orgasmic if given the time, so gives herself over to the feeling. And god, it has been too long since she’s come on a man’s mouth.

With her legs draped lightly over his shoulders he snakes his hands up her body and lightly flicks her nipples, just enough to create sensation. He’ll play with them properly when he’s buried hilt-deep inside her and teasing out his own release. She moans and arches her back just a little, afraid of moving too much lest his mouth move away too.

“Don’t stop” she whispers. “Oh god, don’t you dare stop”

She can feel his smug-bastard smile against her at her words, and no, she doesn’t often beg, and yes, this is most definitely a time to do so; she’s climbing so high and so fast she might just kill him if he doesn’t give her that final push.

She’s not expecting the feel of two fingers pushing inside her, but she welcomes it all the same. His mouth leaves her clit just long enough for him to look up at her over her stomach. “You like that?”

She moans at him, nodding, which makes him grin again, and she really doesn’t give a fuck about dignity when he’s got two- no, three digits knuckle-deep in her pussy and is rubbing _right there_ against her inner wall, and his other hand is still flitting across her nipples in equal measure.

“I want to taste you” he says, his rhythm not letting up. “But I also want to watch you”

She doesn’t much care what he does, just so long as he doesn’t stop.

“I guess I’ll have time to watch later” he ponders. God, she thinks, he really is a little shit.

She moans again when his lips reconnect with her clit with vigour, and she’s suddenly thrashing and moaning far louder than they’re usually allowed. His fingers intensify inside her, and he starts to suck on just her clit, the tip of his tongue flicking against her rapidly, and that does it. She whines, and then shouts a little, and then lets out one long, deep moan as he sees her through her peak. A heat spreads through her, jolting with every pass of his tongue against her, and she rides wave after wave, feeling her walls flutter around his fingers. She continues to whimper as she comes down, loving the ability to be loud, to make noise, to let him know just how good that felt. She lets herself pant and moan; lets her head fall to the side so she can watch him still lightly caressing her with his lips, and then slowly drawing his fingers out. She realises belatedly that he planned this quite thoroughly, because his nails are clipped short. She’ll thank him for that later, when she can think about anything other than the heat still thrumming through her and the erection she knows is waiting for her.

He looks up and meets her eye with a wide grin, she smiles back. He stands straight- and if his knees are protesting he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care- and kneels on the bed with one knee over her again. She watches, quite fascinated, as he licks him lips, and then brings his fingers to his mouth and sensually licks them clean, one by one. He seems amused by her wide-eyed reaction to that; he wonders how many lovers she’s had that enjoyed going down on a woman as much as he does. Or perhaps they didn’t find her taste such an effective aphrodisiac, because boy he sure does.

“That okay?” he asks casually.

The look on his face does it, really; she bursts out into a fit of post-haze giggles, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, and she knows she’s so far beyond modesty, so she doesn’t even raise a hand to cover anything. He laughs with her and leans over her, kissing her breasts and then her neck before silencing her with a firm kiss that includes a lot of tongue. When he decides to stay above her, half laying on her, she can feel his erection against her stomach.

She pushes him up and immediately starts working on his front buttons again, and this time he lets her. She encourages him with a gesture to take his shirt off, and as he’s standing she sits on the edge of the bed and swiftly undoes his belt, top button and zipper. He wants to take a moment to marvel, but she’s quite insistent that he lose the pants as well, and he still has the taste of her in his mouth and isn’t in much of a mood to argue. The singlet gets pulled over his head, the pants and boxers meet the floor in a single move.

She pulls him on top of her, bodies colliding and aligning on the bed from ankles to lips.

She rolls them and gets quickly on top of him, wasting no time with pretence because she knows this is what he wants. He’s moaning and panting and practically begging her to let him slam inside her, and she wants to return the favour and having him come in the back of her throat, but he has told her in the past that if they want any action before morning he’d need a blue pill first. He’s honest like that; likes to make sure they make the most of their time and don’t waste an opportunity. Still, she keeps a note to herself to one day make him come undo with her on her knees. God, what little hussy he’s made her. She loves it.

He can’t know why she’s grinning wickedly at him as she holds his cock beneath her and strokes him hard, but he grins back. Oh, if only he was a mind-reader, he’d be coming all over his stomach at the images she has in store for them. Of course, come morning, and with a teenager back in the house, most of them will remain fantasies. But she can still tease him with the thought.

He bucks a little under her, and she takes that as her queue. He holds her hips tightly as she lowers herself onto him, still madly wet from earlier. She hums as he fills her, her own sounds drowned out by the loud groan he lets out.

“Pace yourself” she warns. She’s still grinning like a cat.

“Don’t even start me” he growls. She laughs at him, deep in her throat. He pulls her down fully, causing her to gasp as he hits bottom. At this angle she can feel him just that deep, and it is one thing- no tongue or fingers- can replicate, and it’s delicious. Her gasp turns into a moan, and she lifts herself and repeats the motion, causing them both to let out sounds of pleasure.

“Oh god that feels good” he says.

“Mmm-hmm” she hums, nodding as she looks down at him through her lashes. She plants her palms next to his head, and leans down to kiss him hard, and they rock together lightly as their tongues dance against each other for a while. She knows that he loves to kiss her while he’s buried inside her, and she doesn’t mind it herself. In fact, she loves it too.

After a while- she’s not sure how long because she stopped trying to measure time about when he got down between her open legs- she feels his arms tighten around her back, and she braces herself as he rolls them over and pushes himself firmly into her. She moans and gasps at the same time, and it comes out as a strangled sound of pure sex. He kisses her throat, and then rocks into her again and again. She lets out a few little noises in her throat, but she’s more focused on listening to his body- on feeling the flex of his arms that are still braced around her, and the heaviness of his breath at her throat.

He raises his head to look in her eyes, so tender all of a sudden after being so playful. She loves that they can be all these things in bed- that they can laugh, and fumble, and worry about the washing, and yet still send each other flying so thoroughly that they have to nap before they can move. She never thought she’d find that again at middle age, after so long without someone, but here she is lying underneath him, her legs wrapped firmly around his lower back, and she feels like they could stay here for hours.

“I love you” he says quietly, one hand coming from around her back to push her hair back and cup her cheek. She smiles and rocks her face into his palm, her hands running over his back.

“I love you too” she whispers back.

“This is my favourite spot on earth”

“Good to know” she chuckles, tightening her inner muscles just fractionally; a sort of sexual version of whacking him on his chest. He grins and strokes into her again, short and sharp and a little bit playful.

“I mean it” he says, still smiling. “With you… that’s my spot”

“You just like me ‘cause I’m good in bed, as the song says”

There’s a laughing glint in her eye, and she’s still rocking lightly underneath him as he keeps up a lazy pace. He grins at her joke and kisses her jaw line, then her cheeks, her nose and finally her lips, just a light peck.

“You are damn good in bed” he agrees. It feels less of a cheap dig given he’s still rocking slow and deep inside her, his pulse throbbing against her opening, his arms wrapped tightly around her again.

“Don’t you forget it” she shoots back.

He rocks into her slowly, and then gives a few firm pumps of his hips, and then slows again. Her nails dig into his back as her fingers flex against him. She knows he won’t last long, given the sounds he’s making and the way that, even looking in her eyes and kissing her periodically, he still looks a bit spaced out. She thinks if she could just get a finger on her clit she could probably have another, smaller orgasm, but she can’t complain that he’s not catering to her- she’s still buzzing from the last one. Still, he’s damn good in bed and he can feel himself getting closer, so he removes one hand from behind her back and traces it across her chest, squeezing and kneading her breast as he goes. (Such a boob man, she thinks. She doesn’t mind- it’s pleasurable enough, and gives that little kick, but he can spend ages just kissing her breasts with no intention other than spending time with them. It makes her laugh, some mornings, to think that she almost has to coax sex out of him because he’s so fixated on her boobs)

His hand snakes between them and a single finger finds her clit. Her nails dig into his back again, and she whimpers low in her throat. It still won’t be earth-shattering, this next one, but it will be satisfying enough to quiver around his cock while he’s moaning her name into her skin.

She tightens her muscles around him and feels his rhythm falter a little, before it picks right up again, harder than before.

“That’s it” she whispers. “That’s it. More. Harder… more”

She feels him seeking his release in the depth of his strokes and his heavy pants. A few moments later he starts thrusting into her harder and faster, and his finger never falters, and she reaches her peak quicker than she expected and enjoys the feeling of soft rolling warmth tingling across her skin as she feels him shoot inside her, his deep shouting loud and obnoxious and buried in her neck just like she imagined it would be. It’s not quite her name, but it’s a valiant effort.

“Oh god” he chants, sweat slicking their skin as they both regain their senses and shift against one another. “Oh god, that was… oh, that was just…”

“Hmm” she hums again, running her hand through his hair and kissing his cheek. “Exactly what we needed”

“Oh god yes” he says, nodding. He’s still bone heavy on top of her, but she doesn’t mind so much; it’s comforting to have a weight on top of her after an orgasm. A duvet between her legs and a vibrator are great and uncomplicated and rather satisfying, but nothing compares to having his deep and uneven breaths reverberating through her chest. No fantasy lover can mumble into her neck the things this man does and make her feel so sexy and yet so cherished.

“You’re incredible” he whispers, almost to himself. “You’ll be the death of me”

“At least you’ll die in your favourite spot on earth” she quips, continuing to run her hand through his hair. She won’t let him live that one down, ever. She’s not one to keep up running jokes or to tease too mercilessly, but he’s never going to forget telling her that in the middle of sex, she’ll make sure of it.

“Sharon, you’ve got no idea how good it is to make love to you”

“Oh, I think I might have some idea. You’re not bad yourself”

She thinks it’s hilarious that they’re revisiting this again so casually while he’s still balls-deep inside her and softening by the second, but it feels nice. She loves this cuddling they tend to do.

“Oh, to be young again, I’d be flipping you over and going for round two, I swear”

“You do just fine, honey” she reassures. She’ll be thinking about that first orgasm for days now, blushing furiously if anyone looks at her while she’s spacing out. He has nothing to worry about.

“There’s still a few things from that damn tape I wouldn’t mind giving a go” he says, lifting most of his weight onto his elbows so he can look at her and show her his cheeky grin.

“There’s still a few things on that tape that I’ll be thinking about during dull meetings” she replies. The thought of having wet daydreams about him while Taylor prattles on in a budget meeting has her lurching in a sudden fit of giggles. He laughs with her, loving to see her like this. There’s one particular segment involving a naughty librarian and a strange man that looked enough like an office setting that it stuck with her. Part of her wishes she was the kind of person to be reckless enough to try some of those moves out at work. When she’s less sated she’ll dismiss the idea completely. Still, that’s what those fantasies are for, and judging by the look on his face, he’s thinking much the same thing.

He rolls off her, his soft cock slipping out as he immediately reaches for the tissues on her bedside table. He quickly wipes himself, and then her, and then balls them up and tosses them on top of his pants that are dropped rather unceremoniously on the floor. There are still two perfect leg circles in the way they fell, boxers on top of them, and that makes him grin to himself. For all their foreplay in the kitchen, and all his teasing, they really kind of rushed it at the end there. Even so, a quick glance at the time tells him they actually killed a couple of hours, and that’s surprising, but reason enough for his sudden need to sleep. He reaches for the abandoned duvet just as her arms snake around his middle. He lets her pull him back down into the bed as he brings the blankets with him.

She drapes herself over him and pulls him into her. His arms go around her instinctively, and they lie facing each other on their sides.

“This is nice” she hums, closing her eyes and snuggling into him more.

“It is very nice. Even if we can’t do round two”

“Well think of it this way” she starts, pausing to give a wide yawn that scrunches her whole face and proves why all-nighters just aren’t practical. “If we have a nap, get something small to eat, sleep some more, then we can have a kind of round two first thing in the morning”

“Doesn’t count as round two if there’s sleeping in between” he teases.

“I’ll have to let Steve Mitchell know” she mutters.

“Who?”

“Nothing”

He snorts at her, then snuggles into her again. “Let’s not ever wait a week to have sex again”

“Oh I agree” she nods. It wasn’t their fault, really- that’s just how the week turned out. But it was still far too long now that she’s used to having him around. She missed having that faint burn in her legs and hips that told her, even the next day, that she’s not alone anymore.

“You hungry?” he asks. They’ve both already closed their eyes, and he doesn’t particularly care about missing dinner after the huge lunch they had today at the office. But he’ll get up with her if she wants to eat. She doesn’t, of course, because she also indulged in a big helping at lunch, and frankly she’s far too comfortable to move now, mild hunger or no. She can wait for breakfast. She hums a negative-sounding noise against his chest and shakes her head just a twitch. He grins at her. She’s already half asleep, and he thinks that’s adorable.

“I’ll see you in the morning” he whispers into her hair. “Love you” he hears, or something like it, mumbled out the corner of her mouth. “I love you too” he mumbles back. It’s an early night for them both; he knows they’ll wake before the alarm tomorrow, which will give them time enough to have slow and lazy morning sex, clean up their piles of scattered clothes, indulge in a full breakfast. Her blinds aren’t closed fully and so he thinks they’ll get woken by the morning sun.

But the alternative is getting out of the cocoon of them and getting dressed and being domestic, and frankly none of that interests him when he can feel her breath evening out against his chest and her arm growing heavy around his middle.

Fuck it, he thinks. It can all wait for morning. 


End file.
